


As Above, So Below

by MerryWriting



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Inner Demons, Survival Situation, biblical shit - i guess, big hands, fear of the dark, look up hermetecism, there's also a shitty horror film of a similar concept, working together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerryWriting/pseuds/MerryWriting
Summary: Rey and Kylo Ren fight again; it's a well-worn path, a routine of sorts, but an underground, labyrinthine temple and weak ground conspire to make it a little less so.With no way up they have to go through; they have to face each other and themselves in all their gritty glory. They have to face their demons, and murder their hopes. They have to do it all together, and they have to find a way to live with each other before they can save themselves.Rated for violence, disturbing themes and sexual imagery scenes. Trigger warnings will be added as necessary, but this is a no rape zone; do not expect dark kylo, guys and gals.





	1. Another Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the updated version of chapter 1, and yes I will be finishing this fic!

It was hard to forget the way he had gipped her hand suddenly, as the elevator hissed to a halt, giving her fingers a soft squeeze before the doors slid open. Or the way they had flowed together in battle. The beautiful dance that had stolen her breath before his offer had broken her heart.

  
Or the look on his face when he begged her to stay with him; the sheen of sweat on his brow, and the desperate, bright look in his eyes that was so close to madness.

Or the feel of him pressing at the walls of her mind as she closed the door to the ship and fled.

 

It was harder still to forget it all when he loomed, just feet away, in the snowy forest,

“Haven’t we been here before?” Rey panted, twirling the saber. Ren said nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her, “Haven’t we done this before.” They clashed in a supernova of purple sparks before spinning away. Rey feinted right, sinking to her knees to avoid a surprisingly deft swing. He moved like water; like a wave of muscle and leather. It shouldn’t have been beautiful. She swung at his calves, leaning back to avoid the riposte that followed.

  
Fighting from a kneel, however, was something every young girl learned on Jakku.

 

Springing to her feet, Rey threw herself forward, past his smooth jab, towards a low hanging branch. She scaled the tree without looking down and sprang to the next with a kind of elated terror before looking down on the silent forest. Like a spectre, he had vanished, but she wasn’t fooled. She could feel him shrinking; pulling away from his ever-present position next to the walls of her mind. Hiding. Like a shark watching its prey from below. She froze heart pounding, and then leapt to the next tree, hands slipping on the icy bark.

She tumbled, slamming into two branches, wind leaving her in one mighty blow. When she landed in his arms she was too stunned, gasping for breath in a seemingly airless environment, to react. The first kick was more like the weak, dying shiver of a landed fish, but the second made him stagger and that iron grip, somewhere between secure and possessive, failed. She tumbled to the snow. Rolling away from him to get to her feet, Rey brought up her saber in time to block a thunderous blow that sent her back-foot skidding through the snow. His face, so close, was warped by a grimace, teeth bared as if he wished nothing more than to sink his teeth into her,  
“I can help you, Rey,” he said, using her name again. Breaking her heart again, “I can give you what you need.”

The more often they had this conversation, the more she heard the truth under it. _Help me, Rey, please give me what I need. Don’t leave me here alone…_

  
“I don’t need anything from you,” she said, and he recoiled. She knew what he heard; _I don’t need you._ And it was true, at least, but not what she meant. They clashed again, spinning in ever smaller circles, and for a fleeting moment she felt the earth shift. They froze,

“A quake?” She asked, but the snow on the trees hadn’t moved. The scene was peaceful.

Ren turned his mask to the sky, almost like a hound scenting the air, and held out a hand,  
“No.” He said, tilting his head,  _“No!”_

The hand fell as she surged forward. He darted to catch her when the ground fell away, that much she knew. They stood like that for fleeting eternities; her hanging over an abyss, him her only lifeline. His saber still crackling, a threat within the intimacy of dependency and fear. His glove was so close that she could see each crease in the leather and follow the fine stitching across its surface.

 

It was not the time to marvel at the way he stood still as a rock. The way he didn’t shake at all. The way she seemed to weigh nothing in his grasp. It was a realisation that should have brought fear, not the warm tingle of awe and shy, shivering admiration. Not the sudden toothache-like pain in her stomach

The saber died, and he reached for her with his other hand as the ground on which he stood groaned, dipping,

  
“Ren,” she said, “it won’t hold. Let me go.”

  
“No,” he said simply, mask obliterating every nuance his voice might have held.

  
“Ben.” She said his name softly, “Drop me.”

  
“No.” He said with sudden force and pulled her up as the ground gave way. They tumbled into the pit.

 

****

 

The darkness was complete; so thick and soupy that she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Rey raised her head blearily to look at the stars, winking at her through the hole that had swallowed them.

 

Hands pulled her from the frigid ground, and a deep rumbling filled her ears. Her vision swam, but she saw the snow tumbling from the trees in a shimmering cascade. There was no heat, but a cool, pliant surface settled under her and stole what little wits she had left.

 

****

 

The daylight was cold and grey, but it illuminated their situation.

She lay on his chest in the middle of a seemingly natural cavern with almost sheer walls. Beyond their circle of light… darkness. She sat up slowly, mapping every ache in her body as she peered into the inky gloom. A sudden sense of awareness pricked at her mind; she looked down at Ren, his mask as impassive as the walls around them, but she knew he was awake. His hands rested lightly on her legs, he hummed with the attempt at stillness.

When she burst upwards and fled to the walls his shout echoed around her like the roar of some great predator; she leapt for the tiny foothold and used it to spring upwards. She had taken larger heights on Jakku, then again  
she had been nothing but skin and bone on Jakku; the fragile lip of the cavern, so tempting, so close, crumbled under the weight of her muscle and gear, and she fell back with a panicked shriek.

He was on his feet, of course, waiting for her, but he didn’t advance.

He crossed the distance between them, stretching out a hand; she met him in the middle, pushed it down and found herself nose to nose with the scuffed leather on his mask,

  
“Ben-”

  
“That is not my name,” he rumbled,

  
“Ben, there’s still time,” Rey said, feeling her arms shake with the pressure of the impasse, “I don’t want to hurt you-” it was the wrong thing to say; he laughed, the sound crackling like lighting,

“Too late for that.” He said, and her pride bristled,

  
“Yes, much too late.” She forced his hand down as he tried to raise it, “Too late to tell me I’m not nothing, too late to play the victim, and too late to pretend you never used, lied to, and manipulated me-” that great, heavy arm pushed up with bone-rattling speed, barely hindered by her grip, and bore her to the ground.

 

Rey froze, mud seeping into her clothes, saber dull and lifeless just out of reach, and stared into the panes of glass that hid his eyes. Her body tingled, scalp tight and itchy, legs shaking as he stared down at her. All the while one huge hand pinned her to the ground and the other cradled her skull, cushioning the impact. He ran the leather of his glove across her face,

  
“I never lied.” He said, “Never. And I never used you.”

  
“No,” she said, “Snoke used us. And he manipulated us. And he lied to you, and we broke free… and you chose to be him.” He flinched and pulled away, “Just kill me if you’re going to.”

  
“You think that’s what I want?” He asked, voice breaking behind the mask,

  
“I think that’s what will happen when you don’t get what you want.” She said numbly. He turned away without a word and melted into the darkness beyond their tiny halo of light. Rey sat up slowly, looking around; waiting for him to slip up behind her. From within the gloom, the grate of stone on stone echoed, and a cold. Dry wind hissed around her. He seeped out of the abyss,

  
“Follow me.” He said, “There’s a door.”

  
“To what?” She whispered. Kylo Ren wavered, and for a moment she heard Ben Solo,

  
“I don’t know.”

  
“So, we work together to get out,” she said, falling into step beside him, faltering as the darkness surrounded her, “Then what?”

 

“Then we finish what we started.” He said, and she felt the brush of his cowl against her leg. A faint glow caught her eye; the ball of light that hovered at his shoulder shivered as she approached. Rey licked her lips and stared into its centre, though it made her eyes water. Ren gave a strange, rattling sigh,

  
“Force light,” he said by way of explanation,

  
“It’s beautiful,” Rey smiled, reaching out to touch it. The mask turned to face her, but she could feel the questioning eyes behind it. He stepped through the low stone door without a sound and disappeared, temporarily from view.

When he left, the light went with him, and the darkness closed in.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Labyrinthine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo Ren move deeper into the cave system, and get their first hint that not everything is as it should be here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested to know, I wrote this chapter while listening to Wardrunas - Runaljod album. It's just the right mix of creepy and pretty, give it a try! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Zdg-AMv8tw

The flickering force light illuminated every crevice in the wet walls and cast long, warped shadows around every corner. As they moved on the floor began to slope gently, and the air chilled as the space became wider. The light began to catch moisture on the dark stone; it shone as they followed the passage into an echoing, cavernous space. Rey swallowed and followed the curve of the walls as the weight of the ancient air bore down on them, squeezing her lungs empty, raking nails along her raw skin. The grey, rough-hewn stone walls looked old beyond belief, and the air around them hummed with forgotten power. The great cavern was filled with light, and yet she could see no holes in its canopy, and feel no breeze in the dusty, sharp air,

"This place..." Rey said, "it's... so old. Do you feel it?"

"I do," Ren replied, his breaths hissing through the modulator. Rey looked up at the impassive, moulded steel and leather mask, 

"Why did you make a new one?" she asked, "why hide away again?"

"I am not hiding," He snapped, head jerking as if she had slapped him,

"It's obvious," she said, " in everything you do, everything you wear... you're hiding Ben Solo under so much-"

"Don't call me that,  _scavenger,_ " he rounded on her with predictable venom. Rey bit her lip, 

"I thought I was more than that?" She raised her chin, felt his eyes on her face, 

"So did I." He rumbled and moved on. 

 

They came to a crossroad, 

"A Labyrinth, then... Do you have anything to make a mark?" He asked. Rey shook her head, "if we get lost," he added, "we're dead."

"I know that," she said quietly, and stepped forward, picturing in her mind a glowing symbol. Tracing it on the rock with reverent fingers, Rey grinned when the sign appeared; the arrow pointed to the left. He huffed beneath the mask, 

"Left it is, then." He said, and though he didn’t ask how she had made the mark the fingers of his mind slid along her defences. Curious as ever.

Moss appeared in the cracks of the huge, monolithic walls as they moved inward, and the floor seemed to tilt. They marked each turning taken on a whim, a whisper in the air, or a tug at the force. They passed each mark again and eventually started to go against them. Rey chafed under the sense that they were being funnelled to some pre-set destination. When they came to a fallen wall, previously unseen, Rey marked their progress and curled her toes in the soft leather of her boots, 

"Is it just me, or are we moving down?" She said, breath misting in the chill,

"We're moving down." He said without hesitation, turning his head before she had even registered the oily shiver that ran through her body, 

"You're afraid," he said, "of the dark. Why?" She shared, willingly, the terrors it could hold, and suppressed a sudden satisfaction when his mind recoiled. "I see."

 

The sound of running water echoed faintly in the distance just as she was sure her legs would give way, and suddenly her mouth was dry as the sands on Jakku. Suddenly water was all she could think about. They sped up by degrees until they loped into a wide, unnaturally lit cavern. All around the cave trees and flowers bloomed, and a shining black river snaked through the ground, encircling a ruined temple. Rey blinked, catching the thought by its tail; _is it a temple?_

"It feels like one," Ren said, 

"Jedi or Sith?" She asked breathlessly,

"Neither," he said, looking around, "as far as I can tell... it feels..."

"Wrong." She finished for him; the temple was too big in some parts, too small in others. Out of proportion. Somehow predatory. 

"Old." He said simply. "Older than anything I've felt." 

 

The smell of the river hit first; tangy and tart and somehow juicy. It ran black as night but sparkled like starlight. He stooped to touch it, and something flicked a silver fin in the undertow,

 _"Ben,_ " she whimpered, hand shooting out before her mouth could push the thoughts out, "Ren. Don't... drink that. Don't touch it." His fingers twitched, the perverse desire to do it nonetheless so evident in every fibre of his being, "We need to go back." She said, and the gaping mouth of the temple seemed to pulse hungrily. It loomed in the distance, black as night and crooked against the lush greenery. She felt it watching her, assessing her worth. He stood, 

"We can't." The tone and volume, that sultry murmur, of his voice was the same as ever, but there was a harshness to its texture that hinted at fear. Rey pursed her lips and turned slowly, knowing, somehow, that the labyrinth entrance would not be there when she stopped. Sheer stone walls twisted along the caverns length; without a foothold, crack, or crease they squirmed into the cavern walls. No entrance, no exit. The light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere had begun to fade; the bright spring flowers withered or folded, and in their place, Rey saw huge, purple blooms begin to unfurl. The smell of rotting flesh seeped from between their meaty folds.

"We need to enter." He said with more bravado than he felt. She could taste his apprehension on the back of her tongue, but it only made her want to run to him. She cursed the child that took hold of her when darkness fell.

"No." She shook her head, eyes firmly on the temple doorway, waiting for a hand, a head, a hunched, twisted figure to fall straight from her nightmares out of that gaping maw, 

"Rey." He said; his tone was laden with a gentle warning,

"No!" She backed away, but he took three huge strides and gripped her wrist, 

"Now." He said quietly, "Slowly." Something rustled in the undergrowth behind them, urging her forward, 

"This place," she hissed as he led her to the water’s edge, "it's doing something, it wants us." The glass of his visor shone as he turned his head, 

"I know," he said and stepped on to the thin, unprotected stone bridge. 

 

The rustling became a ripple of cracks that galloped towards them as he turned and broke into a run, dragging her behind. Rey felt the stone pathway shiver and crumble as she made one great leap forward, too late to slow herself as he gripped her arm and hustled her through the doorway. She staggered down a series of steep steps before regaining her balance. When she turned his back was turned, and the red glow of his saber illuminated the narrow; the figures that peered down were stick thin, twisted, sharp things that reflected none of the light his blade gave off. Rey ignited her own saber twisting to face the fathomless depths below,   
"Are they moving?" She whispered, 

"No." He murmured back, "Move down."

"What if there's more in here..." Rey said. Common sense told her that these  _things_ couldn't withstand two Jedi. Two force users. But a raw, bloody instinct had taken over. 

"They're afraid to cross the threshold." He said, "They shrink back."

"All that means is what's down there is  _worse_ ," she hissed, and then his hand slid into hers, 

"I won't let anything hurt you." He said, and she suppressed a laugh.

 

It was an olive branch so thin, so weak, that she was surprised he dared to offer it, but the dark maw below her seemed to creep steadily forward, and so she clasped his hand tight. 

"Down we go," she whispered and took her first step. 

 

*****

 

Whatever the denizens of that garden had been, they didn't follow, just as Ren had said. The comfort of that was scant as the narrow, uneven staircase led them deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth. They were alone in the cool, dry stairwell, going ever down until their sabers flickered, stuttered, and faded, 

"Ren?" She whispered into the muffling darkness, 

"I don't know," he said, modulated voice making her jump, "stand still." He sidled past her, bulky body rubbing hers as he went "The mask..." he said softly, "it aids night vision. I'll go first."  

 

So, they made the descent together, in darkness, and every breath felt like she was drawing syrup into her lungs until the world in front began to grey. The last step was almost sun bleached, though the light seemed to have no source at all.

The great stone doors that stood alone in the small space bore a crude carving.

On top, a figure reaching to the sky, a sun at its back painted in vibrant reds, pinks, and yellows, and on the bottom, a mirror image drained of all colour. The figure stretching into a yawning abyss. Rey padded past Ren, his form still as stone though she felt his mind ticking over every possibility one by one. The small alcove was otherwise featureless; only the door and its strange design provided any hope of progress.

Rey stepped in front of him and reached out, fingers shaking as they touched the figure. She jumped as it slipped back into the stone with a sharp click and the wheel began to turn. 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Waterlogged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another surprise for Rey and Ren as they continue down into the bowels of the planet. They start to feel that the temple has a plan for them.

 

When the carven circle stopped moving the bottom half of the door fell away with a sudden, thunderous bang. Rey let out a small, short scream, covering her mouth. Ren took a deep, shuddering breath and braced his shoulder on the top of the door, pushing it up without ceremony,

  
“A forgotten temple, then,” he said, “one that’s seen better days.” The modulator was stuttering, his voice coming in bursts and jumps. Rey nodded and peered into the darkness,  
“Can you see what’s in there?” She asked quietly, lips pursed tight as she fought to find any light,

  
“It looks like a corridor,” he replied, “it goes further than I can see. There are sconces on the wall… I don’t suppose you have anything to light them with?” She shook her head and slid under the door. He huffed and followed, letting the top half fall back with a grinding crash. The soft glow of the force light kissed the corridor walls, but it was weak and wavering. Rey curled her toes, willed the world to still its heaving and quaking. A large, broad hand landed on her shoulder, making her jump,

“Are you alright?” Ren said, fingers flexing on her shoulder even as she fought free,

  
“Do you care?” Rey asked, mouth suddenly flooded with acrid spit,

  
“Of course.” He said it so simply, so suddenly, that she had to believe it.

When the door behind them was out of sight the force light flickered, stuttered, and went out,

  
“Get it back,” she whispered,

  
“I’m trying.” He hissed,

  
“Ren, I am not joking.” She clenched her fists,

  
“Neither am I.” He replied, “It’s not… nothing…” the modulator in his helmet crackled, “trying…” A thump sounded nearby, “something in here is interfering.” His voice was stable but quiet. As if the electronics in the helmet were fading. _Or being devoured by something…_

  
“Can you still see?” Rey asked, heart thumping against her ribs

  
“Yes.” He said, “You’ll have to follow me.” His hand nudged hers. Rey jumped and reached beyond his offered hand to grip a fold of cloth. His hurt echoed faintly over their bond, and it struck her then that that too was beginning to fail. Panic rose swiftly in her throat, followed by loneliness so strong that it felt like nausea. They started to move forward, and in the pitch blackness, she could feel every tilt in the ancient stone flagstones. The further they went, the harder it became to feel him through the force. Rey held desperately to the threads of their connection as they slipped farther and farther from her reach,

  
“There’s a step-down,” he said faintly, and she thought she heard the same panic in his voice, but she had no way to check. No way to verify it.

 

The connection was gone; lost to whatever had killed the force light and their sabers.

 

Rey stepped down, tears spilling over her cheeks, and stepped down again at his prompting until she could feel something softer than stone beneath her feet.  
“Where are we?” She asked,

  
“In a,” he started to speak as light bloomed all around them, “cavern.” It was the garden, all over again. Exactly as they left it. Every detail recreated, except for the labyrinth. Rey wiped her face quickly and looked around at the smooth, towering walls of grey stone. At the inky river,

  
“What is this?” She said,

  
“I was going to ask you that,” he said, voice tinny. The purple blooms were open, but slowly closing as they watched. The denizens of the Garden turned to look at them from the temple doorway and then melted away as the first of the pink flowers burst open.

“Wh- can’t-…h…. Rey…”

 Rey looked up; Ren was clawing at his helmet with desperate hands. The modulator was picking up no sound now. Not even his breathing.

 

“Oh!” Rey gasped and reached for his head, fingers struggling to find the latches, “It’s alright… I’ve got you…” the latches popped open, and they dragged it from his head. He gasped, eyes wild and sparkling. His breath was cool on her face when had it become so hot in here?

“Are you alright?” She asked, biting her lip,

  
“D- do you care?” He gasped, throwing her words back at her,

  
“Of course, I do,” she said softly, wishing he could feel her sincerity; his eyes flicked over her face, from her eyes to her mouth and back. As if searching for signs of deception. He nodded, jaw tight and shifting from side to side as his tongue worked behind his teeth. His dark eyes flickered over her face. _Things could have been so different,_

  
“Rey…” he said,

  
“Yes?” She felt his hand on her elbow, the front of his body a hot line along her own. His eyes slid to the side, towards the garden; she let her own follow and gaped when she saw the campfire. The food laid out around it made her mouth water. She had never been so hungry.

“Is that…?” She asked,

  
“I’m not sure,” he said, “It looks fine, but…”

She nodded, understanding what he was saying; nothing here was as it seemed to be. They circled it, looking for imperfection, and then hunkered down to wait. Hours seemed to bleed by in endless moments.

  
“Everything feels elastic here,” she mumbled, earning a strange look. She plucked a berry from a plate and ate it without thought, freezing as cold horror seeped through her moments after. Ren blinked at her, biting his lip before reaching out to touch her forehead,

  
“Do you feel alright?” He asked, and Rey nodded,

  
“I… I think so.” She said.

 They waited, breath coming short and shallow until it became clear that nothing was wrong. They ate slowly, stopping to gauge the steady hum of their bodies as they did so. The first mouthful of water was heaven. The second made her light-headed. The third made her head spin.

 

Rey blinked at the flask,

  
“It’s the water, Ben, don’t… it’s the water.” She said, letting it fall,

  
“Rey?” His voice came from far away, “Rey… what are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with the water…”

 

The light started to fade; the shadows began to bloom like bruises, and her breath suddenly misted in the air. Two animals, big shaggy dogs, circled a rock, digging and barking at turns while some small desert creature screamed in fear in a barely-safe alcove. Rey’s mouth went slack; they were going to kill it. Eat it. Violate it.

  
They twisted into two-legged things; it wasn’t a rock. It was a wreck. An old ship. They dug with their hands, trying to pull something out. The first cry was soft, but as they dug deeper the sobs came louder. A little girl. They were trying to dig her out,

  
“Hey!” Rey screamed, and they whipped to face her. Her tongue froze to the roof of her mouth; they weren’t human. Their faces were slack, elongated, razor-toothed and bright-eyed. Like spiders. They were twisted, broken. They were mad, she realised, and they were coming for her.

  
“Rey!” A hand came from the darkness and she dodged it, barely, before taking off at full speed. The garden clung to her legs, tore her clothes, gripped her hair. It breathed on her, foul liquor smelling gusts of wind that made her stomach heave, and whispered encouragement,  
_Hey… come here… I’ll take care of you…_

  
Rey growled and changed direction; there was a door; a lean-to shack. If she could close the door,  
_I’ll take good care of you…_

  
A mad scream sounded in the distance, and with a final scream, she lunged to the door-

 

Stopping inches from the first step into the gloom. Strong arms held her above the abyss, but she could feel it staring back,

  
_I’ll take real good care of you…_

 

“Let me go, Ben,” she sobbed,

  
“What the-” he gasped, hands flexing on her arms,

  
“Don’t touch me!” She screamed and kicked him away, all Maker knows how many feet and pounds of him, like a cobweb. His face was stricken and pale. The night was falling around them. He shrugged helplessly as rippling croaks and creaks began to tremble through the air. The Garden Dwellers slithered from their hiding places and began to skitter towards them.

  
“Down we go,” he prompted, stepping in front of her though he had no mask to light the way this time. Rey stared at that the broad, blunt-fingered hand, pondered the havoc it could wreak, and slid her own into it with a shiver of something that could have been relief. They made unsteady progress in the pitch blackness of the stairwell, their breaths as loud as thunder, his hand hard as stone under the glove no matter how hard she held it. 

The difference, she supposed, between years and months of training. The difference between nurturing and terror.

The light that reached up to them was warm and wavering, but as they neared it became the broken shimmer of fire on water. Ren stopped, knees locking. Rey collided into his arm, held fast to it as she almost lost footing. His eyes turned to her dully,  
“I can’t go down there,” he said, though they both knew they couldn’t go up.

  
“Ren-” she started, trying to push down on the frustration,

  
“I can’t swim.” He said suddenly, hand becoming a vice,

  
“Really?” She asked, and a sudden weariness reached up to strangle her. They had come all the way into the bowels of the planet to find out neither she nor fearsome Supreme Leader Ren could swim. _We’re going to die down here…_

  
“Not well,” he conceded, “barely.” Relief flooded her. She confessed,

  
“Neither can I,” she said, and then added, “at all.” He pursed his lips and squeezed her hand, “we can do this.” She whispered. And they stepped down, and down, and down until the water lapped their ankles, their knees, their hips. Until he was standing chest deep and her nose was barely above the water,

  
“Get on my back,” he said softly, nudging her under the obsidian sheen. Rey scrambled gratefully onto his back, shivering as the cold air kissed her wet body,  
“When did it get so cold?” She whispered, heaving as he shrugged and stepped down. When the water was up to his neck they levelled out; the long corridor before them was bright; the half-drowned sconces were blazing. A previously unseen railing trailed the ceiling; Rey leapt to it and nodded to him,

“W-we ca-can do this.” She said again, teeth chattering. He nodded grimly, wet curls shining in the firelight, and waded forwards, resorting to an ungainly front crawl of sorts, held back by his cowl.

They made slow, heavy progress through the sunken pathway until a fork in the road took them by surprise; the ways were narrow, too narrow for them to move abreast. Rey looked from side to side there were no railings on one side, the water was too deep for her. On the left a dry ledge into a confined space too small for him.

  
“We have to split up.” She said quietly. Ben swallowed and looked at her with pleading eyes.  
“So it seems,” Ren whispered and moved away before she could say anything else. She shuffled into the tight space and crawled through each tight turn with dread heavy in every limb. Every corner brought the expectation of one of those… things. She waited to come face to face with one of them, holding her breath, reaching for the inactive sabre. But it never came. Only a distant sound of splashing and heavy pants.

She nearly fell face first into the water; the cut to a narrow ledge was so sudden that Rey barely had time to catch herself before she tumbled. Being flat on your belly had some advantages. He was trying to reach a lever in a small, flooded section of the room. The water was rising.

  
“Ren!” She called, and he whipped to face her, relief evident on his face,

  
“There!” He pointed above her head to a wooden handle of sorts, “Pull it.”

  
“What happens if I do?” She called back, but he only pointed to a wall that rose in the middle of the room. A door was cut into it. The same circular motif barely visible. Rey nodded and tried to reach out with the force; a thin hope that gave way like wet paper. The air was dead. She shimmied slowly to her feet, shaking with every movement; she reached her hands over her head slowly, and jumped, catching the smooth wood in her hands. With a low groan, it turned, and the doors opened.

 

Her whoop of joy died in her throat; from the opening doors, a flood of black water began to rush forward.

  
“Ben.” She whispered, “Ben!” She pointed, saw the terror in his face, and watched the wave take him. She paced the ledge like a caged lion, screaming his name at turns until a shiver in the suddenly glass-like water caught her eye. “Oh Mother of Kwath…” she gasped, “what am I doing?”

 

She ran towards the ripple and threw herself into the water without grace, letting her body do what it did best in water; sink. She felt him kicking before she saw the flash of pale skin. Her hands didn’t calm him; he kicked out with a roar that sent bubbles flying upwards. As Rey wrestled his cowl from his shoulders a singular thought slipped to the front,  _he think’s I’m trying to drown him_. It hurt. Ached. And then, as her mind grew fuzzy she heard it again,

  
_I can take care of you…_

  
And her eyes opened,  _he thinks someone’s trying to drown him_.

 

Rey fought him, pinched, pushed, but still, he thrashed like a panicked beast, threatening to kill them both.

 

She gripped his ears and kissed him hard, biting his bottom lip until blood seeped from between their mouths and he stilled. With sudden, breath-taking power he braced his long legs on something solid and sent them spiralling upwards. They broke the surface gasping, but he coughed and groaned, eyes half shut in the pale light that flooded from the doorway. They started to sink again. Rey gasped, taking in water as they slipped under, her foot finding a chunk of stone. She pushed off and struggled upwards, making her way to the ledge, sinking and resurfacing time and time again until her hands shook with exhaustion. With a final kick on fallen rubble, she dragged them to the, now partially submerged, ledge where they clung like half-drowned rats. He tried to push up, shaking like some great injured animal, yelping when the ledge crumbled under his weight. Rey gripped his hand and pulled him along the ledge, legs kicking ineffectually at the abyss below them. Beyond the newly opened doors, Rey could see shallows and dry land. Glorious dry land. 

 

They made slow, painful progress to the door, crept around the frame, and stalled as the ledge disappeared, 

"We have to swim," she coughed, 

"You can't," he replied drily. 

"Well you better polish your shining armour, then Ren." She said with a huff of laughter, "in fact don't, your damn jerkin was heavy enough."

 

He snorted and pushed off without ceremony. Running head first into fear, she was beginning to realise, was his  _thing_ _._ He found a footing after a few graceless front strokes and turned to open his arms in a universal gesture. She faltered, 

"Trust me," he said, and then added tentatively, "please." Rey tried to kick off a few times, her courage faltering, but his arms stayed upright, "You have to trust me, Rey," he said, "there's no other way." He was right, damn him. She pushed off the wall, sank, and kicked up in time to catch his hand as he lunged forward. Ren dragged her to him and walked back slowly until her toes found the ground and they made slow, painful headway to the tantalising shore. They crawled the last few feet, shaking and gasping; a fire crackled in a hearth, built directly into the grey, impassive stone of the walls. 

"This place is fucking with us," she panted, and he laughed, flopping onto his back, 

"As long as I don't have to swim again," he gasped, "I don't care."

"I wouldn't call that swimming," she said with a smile. He raised his brows and rolled his head to her, 

"And what did you do?" He asked,

"I saved your arse." She spat back, but his face was soft, 

"So you did," he said, and she looked away to avoid the questioning look. To avoid the obvious. They staggered to the fire and ignored the blood on his chin, and the fact she could still taste it on her tongue.


	4. Chasm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey is put in the unenviable position of having to trust Kylo Ren in the hope that he comes through.

Rey's eyelids drooped as the heat of the fire seeped into her weary limbs. Rens deep breaths echoed through the wet cavern like the rumblings of a huge beast half gone to sleep. When she slid her eyes to him he was, indeed, barely clinging to consciousness.

 

Their outer layers hung before the fire on a makeshift stand; without his cowl and jerkin, he looked somehow bigger, but softer. The lack of hard edges made his body seem fuzzy in the firelight. Every time her own shoulders relaxed Rey jerked back to life with watchful determination,

“You don’t trust me, do you?” He asked without a hint of shame,

“No.” Rey rolled her shoulders,

“What is it you think I’m going to do?” He rolled onto his side, “Down here? Kill you?” He spread his hands, “And leave myself alone when this place is clearly designed to be navigated by two?” His pale, angular face was painted in shadows, but she could see the curiosity in his dark eyes,

“You tell me, Supreme Leader,” she said, relishing his flinch, and stretched her arms above her head. His eyes followed them upwards.

“No,” he said and looked down, lashes dark on his cheeks, “I’m not going to kill you.”

“Good,” she said, “and… I’m not going to kill you either.”

 

He met her eyes and a smile twitched at the side of his lips; a sudden flash of humour in the eyes of the fearful Kylo Ren, _who would have thought,_ and then she saw him again. Ben Solo, the image of his father, peering from behind the rage. For a moment she could see him at fifteen; gangly, awkward, full of confusion and fear. So afraid and so vulnerable. Then the door slammed closed and his mouth twisted into a feral grin,

“How long will that last, do you think?” He asked, voice dipping low enough to make her shift away,

“You tell me.” She said once more and averted her eyes,

“You’ve always been the one to shoot first.” He said, eyes full of reproach, and rolled onto his stomach. Rey sniffed and rubbed her arms,

“The first time we met you chased me through a forest, attacked me, knocked me unconscious, and then abducted me,” she said, feeling a thrill of vindication as he looked away, “am I supposed to trust you.”

“I killed my master for you.” He said,

“You killed your master for you, Supreme Leader.” Rey kicked savagely at the dirt,

“You forced my hand,” he snapped and sat up, “what was I supposed to do, tell me? You made it very clear that you thought of me as a monster, and then, all of a sudden, I see you everywhere. One conversation,” he held up a long finger, “one moment of peace and you appear on my ship like an abandoned puppy. Ready to change the galaxy!” He laughed, “And there I am, trying to hide the simple truth of the matter from the one person who has my mind in his palm -  _my_ creature in a mask.” 

“I-” Rey started to speak,

“Ah, what does it matter,” Ren said, mouth twisting,

“Snoke was your tutor,” she said, “your teacher.”

“Snoke taught with the lash and the rod,” he said, “never rewards.”

“You chose him,” Rey said,

“What choice was it?” He shook his head. His hair had started to curl as it dried. Dark eyes flashed in the gloom, “When you pull down the roof on your uncle and fight your way free of a Jedi temple it’s surprisingly difficult to find another teacher.”

 

 

Rey bit her lip,

“I… didn’t think it would be so hard for you,” she said, “I thought you had no love for him.”

“Love and fear are not the same.” He said and turned his face to her. Their eyes met, but Rey found she had no words for him. She leaned back, jerking when her hand hit water,

“Is… it just me,” she said, “or is the water rising?”

“It is,” Ren said and the corners of his full lips twitched, “looks like we need to keep moving.”

 

 

***

 

 

               The plain, rough-hewn doorway led to a broad, empty room which ended with a sudden drop. The chasm between them and the other side would have been easily traversed had the force been on their side. Rey reached out into that well of power tentatively and found it dry once again.

“There’s a pole,” Ren said, motioning upwards, “that we could shimmy along. Assuming it holds us.” He sighed and reached up, closing his hands around the thin, shining surface before he jumped. The pole held his weight when it came down, not even a hint of dust or movement, and yet he fell to the floor with a guttural cry.

 

Blood seeped from his closed fists, and when he opened his palms a wide, wet gash gaped like a toothless mouth. Rey pressed a hand to her face briefly, and then tore her arm wraps off,

“Here,” she said as she tore them into thin strips, “hold still.” She gingerly peeled his ruined gloves away to reveal broad, scarred palms.

Ren clenched his jaws and hissed through his teeth as she wrapped them firmly. They would need attention when they finally surfaced, but her makeshift bandages would have to suffice until then. Water started to seep into the room.

“There’s no way we’ll make it across without cutting to the bone,” he said,

“If not through it.” Rey murmured and cast her eyes over the edge of the room. The drop was unfathomable; the darkness was complete. She looked around the small, bare chamber and laughed, “Of course.” She said. Ren turned his head to look; on a small ledge in the corner a pair of metal gloves, almost casings, were connected at the fingers. She lifted them slowly. In the centre of their clasped fingers a there was a groove. _Almost as if something had slid through their grasp._

“I see,” Ren took them from her, “they lock at the wrist, it seems.” He looked at her and then cast his eyes to the far side, “And there’s the key.”

“On your side of the room.” She said jaw clenched, “No, we’ll switch sides.”

“You won’t reach it.” He said, motioning to a similar alcove in their own room,

“And who’s to say you’ll let me free even if you can,” Rey said before she could catch the words.

 

He drew up, becoming Kylo Ren in earnest,

“I have no desire to keep you  prisoner,” he spat, “I’m not so pathetic as to want captive company.” Rey looked down,

“You kept me prisoner once, Ren,” she said,

“You had something I wanted then.” Ren swallowed, “I have no desire to imprison you, Rey,” he added softly,

“No?” Rey raised her chin,

“No,” he said,

“Then what is it you want?” She pushed, instinctively reaching out to that empty reservoir of power again. She hissed in frustration and caught his smirk, “Well?” He opened his mouth, closed it, and then pushed his hand into the glove before he locked it.

“I want you to want to be by my side,” he said, voice barely a whisper, and hooked the gloves into their position on the rail. Rey looked down, “all you can do is trust me,” he said, “there’s no other way.”

Rey looked up at the glove and suppressed a shiver; the ragged edges began to look like teeth as she reached for them. She snatched her hand away and swallowed as water began to flow more fiercely around their feet, tumbling into the abyss below. A huge, warm hand closed around hers,

“Rey.” He said and dipped his head low to look her in the eye, “I promise you, when we reach the other side, I will set you free. You have my word.”

 

He had that look in his eyes, that look from the throne room. That look of unfathomable calm that he had worn when she thought he intended to kill her. When a hiss of energy sent her tumbling to the floor. Rey nodded and reached up, pressed onto her toes and pushed her hand into the glove, but couldn’t lock it. Every time she reached for it with her free hand, her shoulders tilted and pulled her out of the trap. Ren reached up slowly, held her gaze with something close to an apology in his eyes, and locked it firmly.

“What now?” She said, teeth chattering as her body hummed with the desire to flee, “What happens when we have no ground to push along?” She looked up at the wickedly sharp rail,

“I’ll move us,” he said with a shake of his head, “just step forward on three.”

_One…_

She held up a finger,

_Two…_

He smiled briefly, the corners of his eyes crinkling,

_Three…_

Rey let out a shrill yelp as they skidded into the emptiness; they needed no coaxing to move, it seemed. The rail sloped downwards ever so slightly, and the surface seemed smooth as glass. Rey flailed, legs kicking as she sought balance, and they rocked precariously,

“Rey!” Rens free hand shot out to grip her arm and he pulled her close. She wrapped her legs around one of his and squeezed her eyes shut as they slowly returned to a balance and hissed to a stop, “Rey,” his voice was low, quiet, and thick. She opened her eyes slowly and felt his thigh muscles as they jumped under her,

“Sorry.” She muttered and let go, toes dancing on the stone.

 

Rens' face was flushed, he looked away and then shook his head,

“Hold on,” he grunted and twisted his body, long arm extended as he hooked the key from its resting place. When her hand slid free Rey scrambled to the far wall and pressed her back to it as he gently pulled the glove from his own hand. Blood was smeared over the palm,

“Does that hurt?” She asked, brows drawn down,

“Very much so,” he said with a small laugh, and turned his eyes to her, “are you alright?”

“Fine.” She nodded and looked down, “We should keep moving.” 

“So it seems.”

His heavy footsteps followed close behind as she stepped into a narrow stairway,

“Do you think we’ll ever find one that goes up?” She asked, toes curling in her boots,

“I would hope so,” he muttered, “or we’ll come out of the other side of the planet eventually.” He added that with a small huff that could have been laughter. Rey smirked and shook her head,

“Terrible,” she whispered and took a step down.


	5. Rising Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo ren has proven he can be trusted, but can Rey?

It was becoming a well-worn routine, now; to step into the darkness with him at her back.

 

Rey drew in long, steady breaths through her nose and took each step with slow, careful consideration; the ancient steps were uneven and slippery. Water ran down the walls in thin rivulets and pooled on them, making progress treacherous. She had the sudden image of toppling headfirst into the blackness, hitting stair after stair until she fell unconscious and awoke, if she was luck, lost and alone somewhere in the inky darkness. Ren huffed and staggered; Rey heard him shuffle, stop, and lower himself to sit on one of the steps,

“Ren?” She asked,

“I… just need a moment,” he said, “I feel… I’m light-headed.”

Rey carefully turned and lowered herself to kneel on the step and reached for him,

“Where are your hands?” She asked and turned her own hands palm-up on the tops of his knees. He slipped his heavy paws into her hands; they were wet and sticky, “You’re losing a lot of blood,” she said, “you need to clench your fists, put pressure on the wounds.”

“I know,” he panted,

“Ren.”

“I know,” he said, “I know.”

 

 

Rey sat on the step and clasped her hands around her knees,

“Do you hear water below?” He asked,

“I do.” She replied,

“Why is it always water?” He let out a breath and laughed, “Why couldn’t it be whisky?” Rey laughed, the sound echoing through the empty space eerily,

“Or chocolate,” she said,

“Or feather beds and clean clothes.”

“Or a way out.” She said and they lapsed into silence. A hand landed on her shoulder,

“We’ll get out,” Ren said, “and then we can go back to trying to kill each other.” There was a sardonic twist to his voice. Rey smiled, but the corners of her mouth were wobbly,

“Yes, of course.” She said, but the words tasted a little sour in her mouth. He tapped her shoulder and the rustling of fabric told her he had stood up,

“Ready?” His voice echoed around them, melodic and soothing, Rey nodded before she remembered he couldn't see her,

“Ready.” She said.

 

 

They continued downward until Rey's foot slipped into the water. Ren collided with her back,

“What?”

“Water.” She said and crouched; no light permeated the space ahead. Anything could have been staring at them from the depths. She shuddered, body becoming stiff,

“I’ll go first,” he said, and gently manoeuvred her out of the way,

“No, it’s alright I-”

“I’ll go first, Rey,” Ren said wearily and slipped past her. The sound of water parting came, “five steps down,” he said, “it’s up to my hip, you might need to get on my back again.” She stepped into the water, following him until the water reached her collarbone,

“Ren?” She whimpered,

“It levels out here, can you stand?” He asked

“Y-yes.” Rey nodded, though he couldn’t see it, and gripped the back of his shirt under the water. They shuffled forward in the quiet, hissing hallway. Rey closed he eyes, tears dripping down her chin with every shift of the water against her legs. She waited for the grip on her ankle, the brush of some great body against her hip. The sting of teeth. Rens’ breaths were heavy and uneven, but his body moved with smooth confidence,

“I can see light,” he whispered, Rey mouthed silent thanks,

“Ok,” she said, “how close?”

“It’s still faint,” he said, “but it’s getting stronger, it might be around a corner.”

“Can you see anything else?” She gasped, teeth chattering,

“No…” Ren stopped, she could see the outline of his body, now. He stooped, “get on my back.”

“No, I-”

“Get on my back, Rey.” He repeated firmly. She scrambled gratefully up onto his back and tried to pretend that her relief had nothing to do with the very human feeling of his warm, strong back on her chest.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, and felt him shudder, “are you ok?”

“Fine,” he muttered and stepped forward. The light became stronger as they progressed; the corridor was almost the same as the first submerged hallway, Rey thought; the rails on the walls were a little lower, but otherwise-

 

She yelped as he fell.

 

It wasn’t the lean of a trip, but the straight descent of someone being pulled. She flailed and felt her hand close on the rail as she hooked her legs around his chest, ankles barely meeting. He resurfaced with a spluttering cough and caught the handrail,

“Did something pull you?” Rey winced at the shrill, panicked tone in her voice,

“No,” he coughed wiping his face, “the floor drops off there.”

“Quick,” she panted, “follow the rails. I don’t like that.”

“Me neither,” he said, “believe me.” He grunted as he pulled his weight along the rail with his wounded hands. Rey stopped, heart hammering,

“Come here.” She said, tongue thick, stomach jumping. Ren frowned,

“What?”

“Just… come here,” she muttered and pulled him close “hold on to me,” she slid to his back and wrapped her legs around his waist, “I’ll move us, just kick your legs and try to find the floor again.” He nodded. As they moved forward again; his heart hammered a rhythm on his ribs, and she felt every beat on her own chest. Long before they slid into a long, low-ceilinged room her arms had started to shake with exhaustion. Suddenly he stood, and her head collided with the roof,

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” Ren said and stooped to let her down. The top of his head brushed the ceiling with every step; the way forward was clear, and behind the grate, there was a set of stairs that disappeared upwards.

 

“Oh thank the Gods,” Rey gasped and tried to tug the grate free. It didn’t move,

“It’s operated by that mechanism,” he said and pointed to a button just beyond the bars. His thick arm became wedged at the elbow when he tried to reach it, and her fingers came short by a few inches even when she pressed her body to the grate.

“This is…” Rey grit her teeth and snarled, “I am done with this godforsaken place.” Ren only licked his lips and looked around the small room. He laughed. “What?”

 

 

Rey turned to follow his gaze; in the far corner, a low crawl space was carved into the stone. Too small for him by far, but just big enough for her.

“Do you think it leads past the gate?” She asked as her heart pounded in her throat,

“I would guess so,” he said tightly. It was low enough that she didn’t need his help to reach it. That fact hung between them,

“I need to go alone to open the gate,” she said,

“So, it seems,” Ren said, face carefully blank. She looked at the stairway beyond the grate; it sloped upwards and out of sight, but she fancied she could feel a breeze.

“I’ll open the gate,” she said, and his dark eyes slid to her. Ren said nothing, “I will open the gate.” She said. Ren nodded,

“Of course.” He said, and leaned back against the gate, “I’ll… wait here, I suppose.” A wry grin, “I have nothing else to do, after all.” She nodded and backed toward the crawl space, hairs on the back of her neck rising as his eyes narrowed dangerously,

“Wait here.” She said with a half laugh, and he nodded, slow and deliberate, as every muscle in his body tensed. Rey was suddenly hit with the idea that he would lunge at her like a wolf pouncing on prey when she turned her back. Her back hit the stone, “I… I will come back.” She said,

“Of course.”

 

She turned and quickly climbed into the tunnel, waiting for the sudden sound of splashing water. Nothing came. She shuffled into the tunnel, risked a look back, but he was not, as she feared, at the edge of the tunnel watching her. There was only the light from the water, playing on the far wall.

 

 

Rey dragged herself through the dusty tunnel at a snail's pace, cursing and coughing when spider webs tangled across her face. It was warm and dry in the small tunnel, and somehow light pervaded every inch of it. Only when a glint of something like sunlight pierced the air and made her wince did Rey notice the small holes in the sides of the tiny chamber. There were only two corners; she exited the tunnel suddenly and sprawled onto the floor of a huge, stone chamber with a soft thump,

“Ow…” she muttered and looked around; the chamber was empty but for two doorways. One with a set of stairs going up, the other going down. Rey swallowed and crept to the edge of the staircase that led down into the caverns. Water glinted in the depths; the hairs on her neck rose again. He was down there. She started to step down, but froze, mind whirring and clicking.

He didn’t know she was up here.

He didn’t know where she was.

He need never know at all.

 

Rey frowned and wondered why it mattered whether or not he knew; he couldn’t harm her. She could have walked down to look at him, waved, and then left and he could have done nothing. She blanched at the thought of the look on his face, suddenly back in the throne room. That extended hand that hung between them. She could almost see the stitching in the leather. Almost smell the smoke and blood. Almost hear the thick way his voice had cracked when he said that one, unexpected word.

_‘Please’_

 

 

Rey closed her eyes and stepped back into the chamber, backed away from the doorway until she was level with the crawl space entrance. Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick. She licked her dry lips and turned to look at the stairs that led upwards for a few moments before she turned on her heel and bounded lightly up the opposite set of stairs. With every step, she told herself that it was the right choice. The good choice. The galaxy would benefit from it; the First Order would crumble, General Hux would lack the capability to beat a force sensitive group. He would be unable to counter _her,_ and Kylo Ren would slip into the mists of time and myth.

He would never again appear in her quarters without warning.

She would never look up to see him across from her in the mess hall, reading a report or eating his own breakfast.

She would never have to explain to anyone why she was staring at a blank space.

Never be able to ask him what a word in the texts meant.

Never wake from a nightmare to see him standing in the corner, frowning intently.

 

Rey stopped, leaned against a wall in a short hallway that connected the stairs as they spiralled back the way she had come and covered her mouth as a hot, thick pain filled her throat and her eyes stung. It was the right choice. She was doing the right thing.

“He would have left me,” she said and remembered the way he had released her from the gauntlet first. The way he had let her clamber onto his back. The way he had opened his arms to catch her in the flooded cavern. The way he had refused to let her go as she hung over the abyss in the snow-crusted forest, “he would have done the same.” She said to herself, no longer sure what she referred to. She continued upward, head hanging as her fingers dragged along the rough wall.

 

***

 

Ren shifted uncomfortably; the water had risen since she left, and the sounds of her progress were long gone. Only the sound of the water and his own harsh breathing filled the low, wide room. The sconces were set low; the fires would go out long before the water reached his chin.

 

He let his eyes roll upwards,

“She’ll come back.” He said, but his voice was swallowed by the water and the silence and the memory of that dark abyss opening under his feet in the hallway. His hands ached. “She’ll come back.” He waded into the centre of the room, and looked up, touching the strange thumb-sized hole that had caught his eye.

It was the only real feature in the room, other than the tunnel. He aligned one brown eye with it; there was light up there, but he couldn’t see anything beyond it.

 

He stepped away and walked back to the gate, leaned one broad shoulder against is and closed his eyes,

“Please come back.” He whispered, so quietly that he even he could barely hear it. “Please.”


	6. Axial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The waters are rising, darkness is falling; can Rey be trusted?

The water was rising, brushing his waist now, and the lowest of the sconces were hissing urgently as it kissed the hot metal.

 

Kylo Ren pushed back against the metal grate, not so fearsome any longer, hands curled into ineffectual fists at his sides,

“She’s coming back.” He jerked his head as he said it as if refuting some half-whispered statement. He traced the lines of the room and drew deep, long breaths in through his mouth. A rustle beyond the gaping mouth of the hallway made him jump. The black waters in that long, sucking abyss rippled as if something had disturbed them. Ren drew his brows in and groped for the lightsabre that was no longer at his hip. Another set of rippled slithered from that singular void that had almost swallowed him whole, “Kriff,” he muttered, but could step no further back, “please, mother of kwath, come back.” His voice became a whisper as the first of the sconces was extinguished and a creeping, nameless dread unfurled deep in the pit of his soul.

 

***

 

Rey wiped a tear from under her left eye as she stepped into a light, airy chamber. In the corner of the room another set of stairs, also leading upwards, disappeared beyond a heavy, light stone doorway. She leaned on the wall and slid to the floor, covering her eyes as the tears flowed freely,

“Oh kriff,” she gasped, “I’m sorry, Ben.”

She had failed Ben Solo; she could not save him from Kylo Ren. Perhaps her only chance had been in that burning throne room. Perhaps…

“Forgive me.” She whispered, wiped her face, and looked to the stairway. Three down, three up? She clung to the hope that this was the end of it all as she stood, but her legs did not move. She slumped back to the floor and let the grief if it was grief, wash over her.

 

 

The memories that swamped her were not so much good, but formative. Had she truly learned so much from him so quickly? He had offered to be her teacher, once, and as she remembered the way she had watched him move, the way her own war cry had become so hoarse and deep. The way she had learned to protect her mind… she wondered if he was already just that.

“Luke,” she said it to the dead air and felt the faintest of stirrings in the force, “you told me once that you failed Ben Solo… have I?”

She looked at the bare walls,

“I told you he would turn,” she said, “and he did. I told you he was our last hope, but I was wrong.”

She closed her eyes,

“I don’t know what to do.” She sobbed, “Luke, mother of Kwath if you can hear me kriffing help me.”

The silence was thunderous,

“Please.” She sobbed, and in response, a mirror-cry echoed through the empty halls of the temple.

 

***

 

“Rey,” Kylo Ren had begun to crumble under the fear when the second sconce was extinguished. It was Ben Solo who cried for help, “Rey, hurry. Please!”

The slight ripples had turned to shivers. Now the water lapped as if something slithered under its surface. He gripped the iron of the gateway as his stomach heaved and jumped. A cold, shivering static filled his stomach, throat, and skull as the third fire fell into darkness and the water slipped over his elbows. In the gloom of the hallway, something had risen from the dark waters.

 

It took a long, crooked, lean silhouette, with a flowing robe, as it staggered forward and then changed to a bulky, muscled form that swaggered. Then a tall, straight form that slipped smoothly forward.

“Rey.” He said it, but it was a hoarse whisper, the cry of a dreamer blocked from screaming by their own traitorous mind, “Rey.” The second was a bellow of panic as the shape rushed forward into the room but stopped at the gaping entrance. The light drove it back. Ben closed his eyes and sobbed just once.

 

His uncles face peered through the doorway,

“I told you I would always be with you,” the thing wearing Luke Skywalkers face hissed, and he shook his head,

“My Uncle is dead,” he said, pressed his lips together and swallowed, “Luke Skywalker died on Ach-To… he… my uncle had my forgiveness.” Even as the words twisted out of his mouth he knew they were true. The creature pulled back and a deep, hollow laugh shook him to the core.

 

Han Solo stepped into the half-light as the water inched closer to the flame.

 

***

 

Her name echoed through the caverns like a blaster shot.

 

Rey leapt to her feet and lunged into the stairwell before her mind could process the choice her body had made for her.

 

***

 

“Ben,” it said with his father’s voice and reached for him, “how could you do this? To me, to your mother?”

 

Ben shook his head,

“My father is dead.”

“You killed me, Ben.” Han, for it could have been him, tried to step into the chamber and winced, “You killed me, my blood is on your hand's _son._ ”  Ben bit his lip, and Kylo Ren, shaken loose by fear, growled in his belly,

“You left me there.” He hissed, but did not miss the minuscule smile that flickered across his fathers face,

“You killed me.”

“I forgive you.” He choked the words out and forced himself to remember how Hand had guided his hand to the hollow under his ribs. How his eyes had been understanding, “And I ask you to forgive me.” He refused to look at it as a series of hisses, perhaps from the creature, or even from the swamped sconce, echoed around him.

 

Silence.

 

He fought to raise his head again, crippled by the fear that it would be inches from his nose when he did.

 

The shadow in the hallway was indistinct; it flickered and swarmed until, with a grating laugh, it took a small, lithe form,

“No,” he said and Rey of Jakku lounged against the doorway in the dying light, “You’re not her.” He shook his head,

“Of course not,” it hissed, “she left you here.”

“No,” he swallowed thickly, pressing his lips together, and looked down, “no she’ll come back.”

“No, she won’t,” it picked its nails, “she’s out there… in the sunshine. You’re mine now.”

“No.”

“Yes,” it laughed, and oh it sounded just like her, “you’re a creature in a mask, remember, you belong down here. She left you.”

“She hasn’t left me,” he said, “she wouldn’t.”

“She left you once before.” It chuckled as the light began to dim, “On that ship. She left you to Hux, and now she’s left you to me.”

“Who are you?” He snarled, a last baring of the teeth. A last growl before the darkness fell.

 

A familiar face smiled back at him. Vulpine, hungry, pale. Scarred.  

“I think you know that, Ben.” Kylo Ren bared his teeth in a gravedigger’s grin.

 

***

 

“Ben!” Rey called for him as she burst into the chamber, speeding past the gaping crawlspace to take the stairs two at a time. She hit water long before she saw the shape of the lever in the gloom, “Ben?”

She pulled the lever quickly, but he stayed still as the darkness thickened around them. Rey grabbed his arm,

“Ben!” She tugged his arm and froze as his broad shoulder shifted.

 

 

In the mouth of the hallway an oily, writhing mass blocked the doorway. He stared into its depths as though it was the only thing he could see,

“Ben!” She dug her nails into the meat of his arm and dragged him back a step. He tripped, fell into her lap and jerked as if woken from sleep,

“Rey?” He asked weakly,

“Move!” She screamed as the light started to die.

 

With an unholy scream, the thing lunged from its perch; Ben pushed from the stairs with the huge muscles in his legs and propelled them upwards. She kicked out at the lever as he pushed them back, and sent the gate spearing upwards into the thick body of the creature. It howled, jerked, and squirmed, its visage smeared as it roared, and in its depths, Rey would have sworn she saw faces. Ben pushed her back, turned her forcibly, and hustled her upwards as the metal began to groan in protest.

 

Rey gripped his huge hand and dragged him behind her as her legs remembered what it was to run for survival,

“You came back?” He gasped as they scrambled upwards,

“Is this really the time?” She screamed as the shriek of bending metal echoed from below,

“You came back.” He said again, but this time there was a sob in it. She dragged him into the first chamber and turned to look him in the eye. For a second she considered lying, but his eyes were so raw,

“I nearly left you,” she said, and he winced,

“Why did you come back?” He raised his chin, eyes wet and sad,

“I heard you calling for me,” she said and pulled him along behind her, “there’s a way out, I think, up here.”

 

He stopped on the landing, tugged his hand away,

“You were going to leave me,” he said, face blank,

“Ben, we don’t have-”

“You were going to leave me.” He raised his hand and voice at the same time, and she jumped,

“Yes.” She said and looked at her feet,

“Why?” He asked and she ached, “I set you free.”

“I know,” she said, eyes flicking between him and the stairs. He turned to look at the chamber below. It was empty, but the light was greyer than it had been moments before. Her stomach curled into ever tighter knots,

“Why?”

“It… was easier,” she said, “than saving you only to have to fight you again. I don’t want to fight you, Ben. I never wanted to fight you.” 

“Why did you come back?” His voice was hoarse and hollow,

“I told you,” Rey said,

“Why?” The edge in his words became palpable. She fought the urge to shrink away,

“I heard you calling for me,” she said,

“And?” Ben pushed,

“I…” she looked away, “I couldn’t leave you,” she looked up at him, took in the wet, pale skin on his face, the dishevelled curls around his face, and his lips that fought to be hard and yet were not. “I couldn’t leave you,” she said and shook her head,

“Why?” He asked,

“I don’t know,” Rey said, and he must have seen the truth in it because he only nodded.

 

 

The room below was gloomy and grey; water was seeping across the floor, but the creature had not followed,

“What was that thing?” She asked, and he blinked,

“What did you see?” He asked eyes narrowed,

“A… mass,” she said and tried to show it with her hands, “a mess of… darkness and hate…” she shuddered, “what did you see?” She asked, suddenly aware of the question. Ben swallowed,

“A mess of hate and darkness,” he said, “as you did.”

She bit her lip and nodded,

“Do you think it will follow?” She asked as they began to move upwards,

“I don’t think it can be free of us any more than we can be free of it,” he said, “but we may be able to leave it in the temple.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He hissed and pulled it away. The bandage on his right had come loose. Grey water dripped from it when he squeezed his fist shut,

“I… I’ll look at that when we get outside,” she said, and the truth of the Resistance and the First Order hung between them. He nodded,

“My thanks.”

 

 

As they stepped into the room, bathed in golden light, their pace slowed.

 

Rey stopped at the bottom of the stairs and sighed. Her heart hammered, her mouth was dry. She had seen, in his eyes, Ben Solo. There was still hope.

 

She took his hand gently, felt him turn to stone, and squeezed his cold fingers,

“Come on, time to get out of here,” Rey said and tugged him upwards. The stairs were bathed in golden light. She could almost smell the sunlight. Ben gripped her hand tightly, and when she looked at him he was smiling slightly. Rey smiled at him and didn’t look away when he looked down at her, “You’re smiling.”

“You called me Ben,” Ben said,

“That’s your name.” She shrugged, but returned the gentle pulse of pressure that he gave when he squeezed her hand again,

“Perhaps it is.” He said, voice thick. Rey grinned as a painted wall, bathed in light, came into view.

 

 

 

They stepped into a perfectly circular room; the walls were painted with figures and symbols. Gems glittered in carefully carved hollows. The walls were flashing, beautiful, and smooth. There was no crack, no crevice. No window or doorway but the one through which they had entered.

 

 


	7. The Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escape no longer seems to be in sight, but have Rey and Ben finally learned to work together?

“No…” Rey’s head snapped from side to side, “no there has to be a way out, there has to be-”

“Rey.” Ben stepped forward as she scrambled to the wall and felt it for holds or handles. She looked up and saw a single hole, felt a breeze coming through it,

“Help!” She screamed though it was useless, “BB8! Chewie! Finn! Help us!”

“Rey-”

“No!” She threw his hand off as it brushed her shoulder, turned like a caged animal and pressed her back to the wall, “There has to be a way out.” She said. The darkness was coming. The water was coming. And that thing was coming with them. “There has to be.” She said and hung her head.

 

“No there doesn’t.” He said and pulled her to him, “I’m sorry.”

 

She gripped his thick waist tightly, sobbing into his chest, and was surprised to feel him shake in response. Rey looked up, still held in the cage of his arms,

“You’re afraid.” She said,

“So are you,” he countered, eyes almost flashing,

“Yes. I am.” She swallowed and looked down,

“Me too.” He rested his forehead on her head. His heart slammed against her skin even through his ribs, his flesh, his clothes. She was sure hers did the same. She pulled away and slid down the closest wall to sit.

 

Ben paced like a lion in a cage, but eventually succumbed and sat across from her,

“So, this is it?” He asked with a laugh, “I can think of worse places to die.” His voice cracked on the last word, and let the bravado leak out.

“Yes.” Rey said and blinked numbly, looking around the small dome, “It’s a pretty place…”

“Forgive me?” He asked suddenly,

“For?”

“Everything,” he said, “for what I did to you, to Han… to Finn. Forgive me?” Rey swallowed,

“I don’t know if I can Ben,” she said, “but I want to. One day.” They let that hang in the air, painfully aware that one day would never come.

“If we make it out of here,” he said, “will you forgive me then?”

Rey looked up at him and forced a weak smile onto her face,

“Alright, deal.” She chuckled and winced when the sound came out as dry as dust. He nodded, working his mouth as if he could chew the fear and spit it out.

 

Rey felt, rather than saw, the black waters as they rose. Up the first stairway and into that chamber through the crawlspace as well as that lean-to doorway. Across the floor to the next stairway. Up, up, up.

“The sconces will have gone out,” she said, though she didn’t know why, and he nodded,

“Yes,” he said, “the water was black. How is that, I wonder?”

“Because there was no light.”

“No,” he looked at her, “it was grey when it fell through my fingers. Like someone mixed coal dust or oil through it.” Rey shivered, “Maybe because of… it.”

“Maybe,” she said, “do… do you know what it is, Ben? Have you ever read of such a thing?”

“No,” he said and shook his head, “well… in an old book, one… that Snoke had, a skin-bound thing…” he seemed to drift away for a moment and then snapped back to her, “there were pages about things other than the Jedi and Sith. Older things.”

“Gods?” Rey tilted her head, a tickling of curiosity dulled her terror,

“Yes and no,” he leaned forward as he spoke, loving to teach as she loved to learn, “beings of great but… specific power. Embodiments of… one thing or another.” He waved his hand as if it were not important, “Things that fed on human devotion, or fear, or love – and some that needed no feeding. Somethings that could never die because they existed long before there were humans or Twi’leks, or… any other living intelligence.”

“Which do you think this is?” Rey rubbed her hands together,

“I couldn’t say surely,” Ben said, “but it took so long to surface, to reach us. I would venture that it was weak after starvation.”

“The garden dwellers feared it.” She curled her toes as the realisation hit, “Maybe they were trying to stop us?”

“Perhaps,” he said with a smile, “or perhaps they were smaller predators flocking to strip whatever scraps might escape.”

 

 

A groan echoed through the stone caverns. Rey shuddered,

“Well, there’s no going back now so I guess we’ll never know,” she said,

“Perhaps not.” Ben leaned back and sighed, “But…”

“But?”

“Nothing,” he said,

“Ben?”

“It won’t help us,” he said and gave her a sad half smile, “I was thinking that this place was too cleverly constructed to give us fear.” Rey frowned and then picked at the knot of implications he had rolled to her. Ben watched her with his dark, clever eyes, and let her do it in peace,

“The darkness,” she said, “makes sense. So does the water… we’re underground.”

“Certainly.”

“But… the…” Rey licked her lips and thought of the tight crawlspaces, the deep waters, the patterns that were unfolding, “the gauntlet,” she said, “and then the crawlspace. I always feared being captured by you again.” She said,

“And I always… expect that people will leave.” He said and in between the words she heard, whispered so faint it could be ignored, the words _feared_ and _me._

“You’re afraid people will leave you,” she laboured the point to see him wince, though it was cruel. He merely nodded, but his bros twitched slightly, “you think that this place shifts to force our fears on us?”

“Not quite,” he leaned forward, comfortable to be the professor now that she had made her own conclusion, “I think that that thing, whatever it is, is this place.” He raised his brows properly, “I think it fed on our fear from the moment we entered the labyrinth and has been making guesses at how best to scare us.”

“But…” Rey began, but shut her mouth,

“What?”

“It’s stupid.”

“There is no such thing as stupidity in uncharted skies, Rey,” he said. For a moment she saw sandy hair and clear, fair eyes,

“If it feeds on fear,” she said, “why would it coop us up and kill us so quickly?”

 

Ben opened his mouth and then frowned,

“I…”

“Sorry, like I said-”

“No,” he said and raised his hand, “no… that is very astute.” She flushed,

“I mean,” Rey said tentatively, “if I were a creature that fed on fear, in such a remote place. Two people, two intelligent lives… would be a feast. How long since it has eaten?” She leaned forward, excitement building despite the precarious position of their lives, “How long until it might eat again?”

“No telling.” He murmured in that melodic, honeyed tone that said he was edging toward some kind of satisfaction, “And if it were worshipped as an old God…” their eyes met, “there would be no sense in killing its followers.”

“What does that mean?” Rey asked, heart pounding as he jumped to his feet, “Ben?”

“Let me think!” He snarled, but it was excitement in his face, not rage.

 

She sat back, pushed her spine to the stone and flexed her toes as he paced in circles, muttering.

Suddenly he whirled to look at the walls and let out a cry,

“Rey, yes, come here – please,” he waved her over, “do you see?” He pointed to a collection of figures, huddled around the same carving that had been on the doorway to the temple,

“Yes,” she said, “but what’s that?”

“It doesn’t look familiar?”

 

On top of that symbol, a mass of writhing darkness, crowned in sunlight.

 

“They worshipped it?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

Ben made a sound of exasperation,

“How would I know?” He asked,

“I thought you knew everything.” She teased, but the timid truth in her voice made him blink, “We don’t all have the benefit of your education,” Rey said with a snorted and turned back to the wall, though his eyes were firm on her,

“And yet ‘we’ so often outsmarted me,” he said with a sudden ironic laugh, “ _we_ would have been a terror with my education.”

“Yes,” Rey said with a smirk, “ _we_ would have been.”

“That’s still possible,” he said quietly, “I meant what I said. I could teach you.” Rey turned to meet his steady gaze,

“Who said I was talking about myself?” She asked with brazen innocence. He huffed gently and nodded, a wan smile on his lips,

“Of course.”

 

“So…” Rey said, “what does it mean?”

“Oh,” he laughed, “it means they worshipped it. You were right,” he added, “it was a God of a sort. Or is… I don’t know if you can be a God with no worshippers.”

“So?”

“In the old days,” he said, touching the carvings with a kind of reverence, “there were cultures which prided honour and bravery above all… I fashioned my sabre after a design from such a culture.”

“Light sabres didn’t start with the Jedi?” Rey asked,

“No,” Ben said, “they did not… in any case, such cultures often required young men and women to run a gauntlet of sorts. To prove their worth.”

“You think this is that?”

“It could be.” He nodded,

“So, we won’t die,” Rey said and laughed,

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ben said, and her smile dropped, “they wanted their young to succeed, of course, but the weak were expected to die. It was a test not a lesson.”

“But we have a chance.” Rey turned to look at the walls. In the chamber below theirs, water was trickling across the floor. She froze; a creeping mass of tentacles was creeping, slowly, onto that floor with it, “Ben…” she whispered, “do you have any more bright ideas?”

“Hm?” He turned, crouched to see, and the colour drained from his face, “No.” He said, "I don’t. Do you?”

“No.”

 

 

Rey closed her eyes and bit her lip, though that image, the man reaching ever for the sky and the earth, flashed behind her eyes. She looked at the symbol on the wall, traced it on the floor. Anything to avoid looking at that damnable creature as it slithered to them. It waited at the bottom of their stairway, now, unable to rise without the water it seemed. Ben breathed hard and fast by her side like a Bantha worked too hard for too long.

She dug her fingernails into the carving and hissed as a growl echoed up to them. The carving shifted with a click.

“Ben.”

She pushed again; another click.

“Ben!” She slapped his shoulder,

“What?” His eyes darted to the floor, irritation clear on his face. _Oh yes, how dare I ruin the mood of your terrible doom?_

“Look.” Rey pushed the carving again, but this time the floor shook.

“As above, so below…” he whispered,

“What?”

“An old saying,” he said, “the world of the mind mirrors the world of the body, heaven mirrors hell. And so on…” he pushed it again, hissing when the floor shifted, “if we do this, Rey, we go down.” He said, “Do you understand? As above, So _below._ Things get worse, harder, from here.”

“But we could get out,” Rey said as a howl made them cower,

“Or we could die,” he said, “or… worse.”

“What could be worse?”

“Many things.” He dipped his head to look her in the eye,

“We have to!”

 

The water was halfway up,

“It will follow us.” He gripped her hand,

“Then we stay ahead of it,” Rey snarled, and then softened, “we have to Ben. Together.” He looked up, eyes wide and wet,

“Together?” He asked,

“Yes.”

“You won’t leave me behind?” He asked, voice so small it made her want to weep,

“No,” Rey said, “and you won’t leave me?”

“Never.”

 

 

She looked once more at the encroaching darkness,

“Together then?” She gripped his hand, and without thought, kissed his knuckles. He mimicked her action,

“Together.” He said, and they pushed the dial all the way around in a cacophony of clicks. Nothing happened, and for a moment Rey could only close her eyes and let tears slip free.

 

Then the earth swallowed them whole once more.


	8. Bringer Of Light

They fell, screaming, for an eternity, slamming on every butter smooth wall in the tunnel that led down, down, down in to the bowels of the ancient earth.

Rey screamed as her head slammed into the rock during a sharp bend, but the whistling wind tore the sound away, dragging air from her lungs as it did so. She scrabbled at the rock, nails protesting as they scraped down the smooth surface; one jagged rock tore an index nail free and made her thrash even as the rock gave way to abyssal depths and she seemed to hang, suspended by nothing at all. In the gloomy, greyish light she saw Bens pale face, illuminated as if from within, before he was snatched away by the void and a blinding crack of pain, red as fresh paint, knocked her senseless.

 

Rey blinked once, twice, three times in the all-consuming darkness. She raised a hand to her face and saw nothing. Heard nothing but the thin whoop of her lungs and the distance spattering of water against stone.

“Ben?” She asked the void, but nothing came. “Ben are you there?” She reached out, hitting a wall almost immediately. And another, and another, and another. A perfect square. She reached up, heart sinking into the very pit of her stomach, and felt another above her. “This can’t be real.” She whispered, but this time it bounced back to her immediately; the water in the distance was gone. Instead there was only crushing, infinite silence. She closed her eyes and tried to steady the shaking breaths that were slithering through every corner of her tiny world, “This isn’t real. There’s a way out.”

 

Something, he had said. Something old. Something that fed on fear, and what frightened her more than the prospect of being trapped?

 

Rey knelt and felt her way along the seams of the walls; there was a way out. There had to be, because there had been a way in; the creature would not shut itself out, she reasoned as she quickly scrabbled along the floor. Nothing. She did it again, and again, until, perplexed, she stopped over a series of ridges on the floor. Round, swirling patterns that led to a hole. A hole that hadn’t been there before. She was certain of it.

Her cold, hard fingers shaking, Rey reached into it, breath held, lip caught between her teeth while she waited for the snap of teeth or the tear of claws. She felt a smooth, wooden handle, worn by years of use, and pulled it before she could think of a reason not to. The second fall was shorter, and gentler, than the first; she landed in a low, square chamber which was illuminated by torches. Ben paced the room like a lion in a cage, whirling to her almost as soon as she saw him,

“Rey!” He half skidded to her side, helping her up with his uninjured hand, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she looked around, “I don’t know what happened…”

“What’s this?” He lifted her wrist; secured around it was a wooden band, intricately carved. She thought of the wooden handle and felt a shiver of fear,

“I don’t know.” She said, “It doesn’t matter,” she pointed to the dark seep of water on a far wall, “we need to move.” He nodded and kept her hand in his as they hurried to a carved archway.

 

In unison they jogged through the dusty pathways, hands clasped tightly. Rey looked down and saw, for the first time, how pale his hands were, how large. Her small, brown hand seemed childlike, his sapped of all life. Light and dark, cold and heat. Strength versus tenacity. They had been told so often that they were to balance each other, but Rey saw the balance in him as they turned a corner and the worry in his eyes seeped out onto his cold, pale face and the darkness of his hair caught the golden light.

He turned to look at her, as if pricked by her attention, and they stopped in a stunted hallway. Two doors in front of them. One small and narrow, lit up with torches, blocked off by a high, thin entrance which was more of a window. The second was a huge, gaping chasm of darkness.

 

Their paths were never joined, it seemed. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath,

“Well,” he said, “I hope we meet again.” His voice was thick as the tinkle of water began to grow in the distance. Her eyes stung; that path led to death. They both knew it. There was no light. No way to navigate. No hope.

He would be, in there, as he had been since leaving Luke’s school; alone, helpless, and surrounded by darkness. This time, however, there was no hope of the darkness embracing him as its own. He worked his tongue behind his teeth, stepped forward just once, as if to reach for her, and then kissed her hand firmly,

“I am sorry,” he said, “for all of it. I wish I had been a better man when we met. I wish I had been a better student…” he looked down, “I hope you get out… and, when you do, in my ship… the drive has all the information the resistance will need. Take it.”

“You can give it to me,” she said with a sniff, and he nodded. His smile was sad, his eyes soft,

“Of course.” He said and let her hand go and walked to the wall, “Let me help you up.”

 

He hissed as her weight settled into his injured hand, turned his head so that his cheek rested on her hip, and pushed up so that she could wriggle through the window,

“Ben,” she turned, eye level with him now on the raised floor of the tunnel, “take care.”

“You too.”

Then he was gone, into the darkness. Alone.

Rey wiped away a tear and stared at the torch on its loose, metal stand, and thought about Luke. About Han. About how lucky she had been to have their guidance, and how difficult it must have been for Ben to navigate, as a child, a world he was assumed to already know simply by birth right. A creeping realisation began to take hold; Rey watched her hand reach out, shaking, as if it was not her own. The light shone dully on the wooden band, and the torch came free, smoothly and silently.

“Ben.” She said, voice barely a whisper, “Ben!” She called it this time and heard nothing. “No.” She turned to the window, “Not again.” She scrambled up, hissing and yelping each time the fire touched her skin, her clothes, her hair. She landed gracelessly in the stone chamber in time to see a thin sheen of water creep into the tunnel they had run through together, “Fuck you.” She whispered to the water, and then, more quietly, “You can’t have him. Not this time.”

She leapt into the darkness beyond the roughly hewn arch and sped into the darkness,

“Ben?” She called, as loud as she dared, and heard, with a susurrus of hope, a call in the distance,

“Rey?”

“Ben, stay there!” She skidded to a halt in a circular chamber ringed with doorways and saw, with satisfaction, that the walls were lined with unlit torches. She lit each one and called into the passages for him. His reply seemed to come from everywhere; she resisted the urge to rabbit into one of them and chase him down. She stepped into the closest tunnel and followed it until, at the first corner she found an unlit sconce. She lit it and took deep breath before returning to the central chamber to repeat the process. After the third she called,

“Can you see light?”

“No.” His voice was faint and frightened. Her chest ached,

“Stay put!” She called to him, then to herself, “I’ve got you.”

By the time she had lit the fifth water was trickling into a grate at the edge of the chamber. Rey drew in a breath and started into the sixth as his voice echoed through the chambers,

“I can see something!” He called,

“Walk to the light, Ben,” she called, “I’m coming for you.” She hurried into the fifth again, plunging past the lit sconce until she came to a second, cold one. She couldn’t hear him, but she could see four more doorways.

“Rey?” His voice was behind her; she turned and ran back to the central room. He gaped at her, as if she was not real, and then at the room around him. At the light she had brought. His head was still turned when she dropped the torch and threw her arms around him.

She felt his body, awkward, too big for the soul inside it, stiffen and then relax and wrap around her,

“I’m coming with you, Ben” she said, into his hair, “we’ll get out together.”


End file.
